


Half Shell and Rollerskates

by levendis



Series: Prompt Fics [68]
Category: Doctor Who
Genre: F/F, Food Sex, Poor Life Choices
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-18
Updated: 2016-04-18
Packaged: 2018-06-03 00:09:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6588874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/levendis/pseuds/levendis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nyssa, apparently, had existed entirely on a diet of pure honey and rarefied air up to this point.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Half Shell and Rollerskates

**Author's Note:**

> for anon, who prompted: Nyssa/Tegan food play

Tegan would call it a sleepover, if she wasn’t an adult. She had the vague feeling one of them should be braiding the other’s hair. Tucked into an overwhelming amount of pillows on her bed in the TARDIS, talking about food. She hoped boys aren’t next on the agenda.

And Nyssa, apparently, had existed entirely on a diet of pure honey and rarefied air up to this point.

“You’ve never eaten meat.”

“No,” Nyssa said, as if that were an obvious thing. No one eats meat, surely, that’s barbaric.

Tegan was suddenly very aware of the hamburger she was currently digesting. “Cheese?”

Nyssa squinted, shrugged.

“It’s milk, that’s been…nevermind. Pie? Have you had pie? Or cake?”

“The Doctor shared his biscuits, they were. Acceptable. And at the feasts, we’d have fruit fresh-plucked from the vines.”

Tegan entertained a brief mental image of a servant feeding Nyssa grapes as she reclined on a settee. “Have you ever done anything, ever at all, that wasn’t sensible and healthy?”

“Should I have?” Nyssa looked genuinely confused. Soul-searching, for reasons why her general air of pragmatic perfection would be a problem.

“Well, no. Not ‘should’. But normal people, they sometimes do things just because they feel good, even if it’s not the best decision.”

Nyssa leaned forward, squeezed Tegan’s knee. “I’ve done things just because they feel good.”

Tegan swallowed down a smile. That’s right, princess. You’ve _done things_. “Have you eaten oysters? Supposed to be an aphrodisiac. I picked some up at that market today - ” Not for this occasion in particular, just because oysters were delicious. “Feel like being adventurous?”

“Always,” Nyssa said.

The TARDIS obligingly popped open the door to the fridge set into the bulkhead, displaying a tray of oysters. Crushed ice, shucked - Tegan appreciated the gesture but was mildly uncomfortable at a sentient time-ship being her wing-man. Wing-lady. Wing-ship, whatever.

She picked up an oyster, shell balanced delicately in between her fingertips, and guided it towards Nyssa’s mouth. “Just swallow it whole,” she said, voice thick. 

 

 

And that was how everyone learned that Nyssa was allergic to shellfish.

“I’m so, so, so sorry,” Tegan babbled.

Nyssa smiled gamely through the puffed-up face and potentially deadly anaphylactic shock. “S'okay. Notyr fault. Fish, hanh.” She shrugged as the Doctor wheeled her away.

“If you’re gonna do food, sexually,” Adric said, since as a five-year-old idiot he knew all about that. “You should do cake. Everyone likes cake.”

“You know who everyone doesn’t like? You.” It’s dumb and spiteful, but it feels right. She revels in her shitty victory before dashing off down the hallway, catching up with the Doctor and Nyssa just as she says “Actually? Hoysters? Very tasty. My current state notwithstanding.”

“You’re welcome? Sorry?” Tegan cringed, and the door swung shut behind them.

“Or pie. Key lime is good.”

“Shut up, Adric.” She might be the perpetrator of accidental manslaughter maybe, hope not, fingers crossed, but she could be worse. That’s a comfort, just about.


End file.
